


i know i don't know you (but i'd like to skip the small talk and romance)

by bellawritess



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (a bit. at the end. it's mostly just autumn-y), Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheeky flirting, Coffee Shops, Friendship, Getting Together, Halloween, M/M, Rating for Language, but also!!, pumpkin spice latte as plot device, shenanigans and what have yous!, slight miscommunication, that tag feels weird but it is technically correct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: “Hi,” says the bloke behind the register. Calum drops his gaze and finds himself unable to look away. The barista looks around college age, maybe a year or two older than Calum, built enough that the short sleeves of his t-shirt are hugging frankly impressive biceps. Golden-brown curls fall messily over his forehead, and there’s an easy smile on his lips as he awaits Calum’s order. Calum’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone more attractive. “What can I get for you today?”“Uh,” Calum says, feeling flustered and taken aback. “A, uh, pumpkin spice latte?”
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings, Omg also, Rian Dawson/Alex Gaskarth (background), i have too much freedom. i have too much fun
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	i know i don't know you (but i'd like to skip the small talk and romance)

**Author's Note:**

> hi !!!! so !!!!!! how exciting !!!! this is the fic i wrote for [ainslee's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisonthefloor) halloween fic event. i'm not sure if you know this about me but i lack the ability to be succinct.
> 
> my prompt was the following: _“You’ve come in and ordered a large pumpkin spice latte every day since September. Are you okay?” Or, one person has a PSL addiction (or whatever motive you’d like for them to keep coming in ordering fall-themed coffee and snacks). Their regular barista notices._
> 
> as i'm sure you'll notice i did diverge slightly (a lot) from the prompt but it's definitely..........strongly inspired by? i don't know. it's just a lot of stupid fluff and nonsense. big shoutout to [iba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/formidablehedgehog) for reading this when it was (mostly) done and telling me that it was acceptable, i love you!! also i MUST, of course, thank the delightful ainslee for organizing this event. thank you, my love, i had tremendous fun with it. and i got to write cashton!!! which i never do. so wins across the board, i think.
> 
> title is from can we dance by the vamps, for absolutely no reason. just a good song and a good lyric. okay enough!! enjoy the fic <3

**September 1st (Tuesday)**

“You’re going to make us _late,_ ” Calum hisses, but Luke ignores him and enters the coffee shop anyway, leaving Calum no choice but to follow begrudgingly after.

Inside, the place smells nice. The scent of cinnamon lingers in the air, but Calum doesn’t mind cinnamon, and there are orange fairy lights strung up around the perimeter despite the overhead lights. The ambience is enchanting enough.

Calum wishes he could appreciate it more, but they’re going to be late to class because of Luke and his stupid fucking pumpkin spice latte addiction. 

“Will you order me one?” Luke asks. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Calum throws his hands up. “You drag me against my will to get coffee ten minutes before our class is supposed to start and then you want me to order _for you?_ ”

“Yes,” Luke says seriously. “Otherwise you’ll have to wait until I’m out of the bathroom to order. And then we’ll be even later. Look, I’ll pay you back. I’ll even get you something, if you want.”

“Regular Rockefeller, you are,” Calum huffs, but Luke has unfortunately made a good point, so he walks up to the registers anyway, scanning the menu pinned up behind the counter.

“Hi,” says the bloke behind the register. Calum drops his gaze and finds himself unable to look away. The barista looks around college age, maybe a year or two older than Calum, built enough that the short sleeves of his t-shirt are hugging frankly impressive biceps. Golden-brown curls fall messily over his forehead, and there’s an easy smile on his lips as he awaits Calum’s order. Calum’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone more attractive. “What can I get for you today?”

“Uh,” Calum says, feeling flustered and taken aback. “A, uh, pumpkin spice latte?”

“A crowd favorite,” the guy — _Ashton_ , says the metal bar pinned to his apron — says with a cheerful grin. “Size?”

Luke hadn’t said, so Calum just guesses. “Large?”

“No problem,” says Ashton. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“That’s all,” Calum says. He tries to smile, like a normal person would if he were flirting, but his face seems to have frozen. 

“Great,” Ashton says. “Can I have a name?”

“Calum,” Calum says, because whatever. He’s the one ordering it. 

Ashton takes a sharpie and scribbles it onto the cup. “That’ll be 5.95,” he says brightly.

Calum fumbles with his wallet and then pulls out his credit card. He pushes it into the chip reader until it beeps at him to remove it, and then clumsily returns it to its place.

“Thanks,” he says, finally managing a genuine smile. Ashton reflects it back at him.

“No problem,” he says. Even though that’s probably a line he’s supposed to feed every customer, it sounds incredibly sincere. Maybe this is why they put Ashton at the register. He just draws customers in with his cheerful attitude and, like, bewitching eyes and nice hands and muscles and all. “Have a great day.”

“You too,” Calum says, and then scurries away to go wait for Luke’s drink. A minute later, Luke returns.

“Calum?” says the barista who’s been making the drink, a similarly muscular guy with the scruffy beginnings of a beard whose smile almost blinds Calum when he hands off the drink. “Have a great day, man.”

“Oh, thank you,” Calum says. “You too.” His apron says _Rian._ Maybe there’s something in the water here, Calum muses. Everyone’s almost suspiciously friendly.

They leave the shop, and once they’re out the door, Calum hands Luke’s drink to him. “Thank you,” Luke says, accepting the drink and taking a sip. He smacks his lips and lets out a satisfied _ahhhh._ “First PSL of the season,” he says, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment. “God, I love autumn.”

Calum makes a disgruntled noise of assent. He doesn’t want to cave this easily, or at least doesn’t want Luke to know he’s caving, but he’s already planning how to sneakily influence Luke to get him to drag them back to the coffee shop, just so he can see the cute barista again.

**September 3rd (Thursday)**

Luke and Calum don’t walk to their noon class together on Thursdays. Luke has a class before it, so Calum always meets him, but the path to the building does take him straight past the coffee shop, and it just so happens Calum had left his dorm with enough time to stop in for a drink. Calum doesn’t actually like pumpkin spice lattes, but Luke will appreciate it, surely.

If Ashton happens to be working this morning, so much the better.

(Calum’s not fooling himself with that, and he’s sure he wouldn’t fool anyone else. He just wants another chance to talk to the cute barista. He _knows_ he can flirt better than that, he’d just been caught off-guard.)

Walking into the coffee shop is like stepping into an alternate dimension. Outside, students who really do not deserve to have licenses race past on the university roads, and everything is concrete or brick or artificially green. In here, the comfortable atmosphere envelopes Calum, and the dim glow of orange from the fairy lights soften all the edges. It’s like walking into an orange cloud.

And there, at the register, is Ashton.

Calum’s mouth goes dry, but he steels himself and queues up behind another student, shifting on his feet until it’s his turn to order. Ashton smiles at Calum, recognition in his eyes.

“Hi!” he says, exactly as bright and cheery as he’d been on Tuesday.

“Hi,” Calum says, matching him in tone. “How are you this morning?”

Ashton shrugs good-naturedly. “Can’t complain,” he says. “What can I get you?”

“Uh, pumpkin spice latte, please,” Calum says. “Large.”

“Sure thing,” Ashton says, taking the cup. “It’s Calum, isn’t it?”

Calum blushes. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m good with faces,” Ashton explains. He tilts his head at Calum. “Sometimes.”

Well. Calum couldn’t for the life of him try to puzzle out what that means, so he just smiles. “Me too,” he says. “Sometimes.”

“Look at us go,” Ashton says. He sets the cup down. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” Calum says, and this time he’s already got his credit card ready when Ashton tells him the price. He puts it in the machine and then removes it. “Have a great day,” he tells Ashton.

“You too,” Ashton says, sounding surprised that Calum had beaten him to the well-wishes. Calum gives him a final nod and then sidles away to wait.

The drink is handed to him a few minutes later from the same guy as last time, Rian. “Take it easy,” Rian tells him, with another blinding smile. Calum grins.

“Same to you,” he says. “Thank you.”

Rian gives him a thumbs up. As Calum starts to walk away, palms cupping the warm drink, he hears Ashton say, “You’re selling ‘em, mate.”

“What, the PSLs?” says Rian. “They sell themselves. _You_ sell them, with that fucking smile.”

“Hey,” Ashton says. “If we’re doing Smile Olympics, you win, my friend. And watch your language.”

Calum chuckles to himself as he leaves the store. Luke will appreciate the drink for sure. And Calum is a great friend for getting it.

(Luke looks confused when Calum proudly delivers the PSL. “Um, is this a bribe?”

“It’s a fucking nice gesture,” Calum says, frowning. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Luke says. “Uh…why?”

Calum huffs. “Because I love you, does there have to be a reason?”

Luke just squints suspiciously.)

**September 8th (Tuesday)**

As it happens, Luke needs zero sneaky influencing. At least, though, he gives Calum advance notice this time, informing him before they go to bed on Monday that he wants to stop at the coffee shop again the following day. Even Luke can’t justify going out of their way just for the slightly-nicer coffee from the independent shop rather than the campus Starbucks every single day, so Calum knows he definitely can’t either; he’ll have to be satisfied with Tuesdays and Thursdays. But that’s for the best anyway. Calum’s bank account will not be grateful if Calum starts spending six bucks a day on fancy coffee alone just for a chance to chat with Ashton.

He does make an effort not to poke fun at Luke’s PSL dependence, though, worried that Luke is going to yield to the teasing and stop making them go. Instead, he says, “I can order for us both, if you want. Just to speed things along. You can pay me back.”

Luke shrugs. “Alright. I need the toilet anyway.”

Of course he does. 

When Calum steps up to the register this time, Ashton grins at him. “Calum!” he says earnestly. “Back again, I see.”

Calum’s heart skips a beat. Ashton remembers his name. Ashton, _saying_ his name. His name on Ashton’s tongue. Fuck. Okay. “Back again,” Calum agrees. “And you’ll never guess what I’m going to order.”

“I bet I can,” Ashton says, taking a cup off the stack already. “Large pumpkin spice latte?”

Calum nods. “Also, uh, maybe something to eat,” he says. “What do you suggest? Can I ask that?”

Ashton laughs. “You can ask, but, uh, between me and you,” he drops his voice to a stage whisper, “I’ve not tried most of the things we sell here.”

“Fair enough,” Calum says.

“Rian?” Ashton says, turning to his co-worker. “What do you suggest for Calum? He’s our resident PSL-drinker.”

Calum doesn’t have the heart to correct him on that front, so he stays silent.

Rian looks pensive. “How do you feel about dessert for breakfast?”

“Strongly in favor,” Calum answers. Ashton chuckles.

“In that case, we have really good cinnamon sugar cookies,” Rian says, pointing at the display case. “They go well with the PSLs.”

“Rian’s the expert,” Ashton tells Calum. “I’d listen to him.”

Calum recognizes that this could all just be a ploy to get him to spend more money at this fucking indie coffee shop, but fuck it. “Sure,” he says. “Cinnamon sugar cookie, then.”

Ashton beams. “Always love an easygoing customer.” Hitting some buttons on the till, he says, “That’s 9.65 total.”

Calum’s bank account is going to cry. He puts it on his card and gives Ashton a sincere smile as he returns the card to his wallet. “Thanks,” he says, trying to infuse the word with some deeper meaning, like _you’re truly the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life_ and _would you be interested in going on a date with me_ and _I would like to stare at you for many, many hours_. At the same time he hopes Ashton’s not telepathic, because those would be some very creepy thoughts to pick up on from a customer. 

“Thank _you_ ,” Ashton returns, and Calum chuckles as he goes to stand and wait for the order. 

As if on cue, Luke materializes by Calum’s side. “Ordered?” he asks. Calum jumps.

“Motherfucker, don’t _do_ that,” he says, putting a hand against his heart. “Yes, I ordered.”

Luke nods. “Get anything for yourself?”

“Yeah, a cookie,” Calum says.

Luke snorts. “For breakfast?”

Calum shrugs. “The guy making the drinks suggested it, so.”

Luke laughs. “You asked for a recommendation?”

“I’m hungry,” Calum says defensively. “And there’s no normal food here.” It’s one of _those_ coffee shops, where all the pastries are interesting and inimitable. It probably lends to their quality, but it also means there’s no way Calum could possibly know what to order without at least being nudged in the right direction. 

“No, it’s fine, it’s just not very…Calum of you,” Luke says. “You don’t usually ask.”

Calum frowns. “Sometimes I do.”

“Uh, I’ve never seen you have an exchange with a staff member at any restaurant or food-service place that went outside of the standard here’s-my-order-thanks-bye shit.”

Okay. Maybe that’s true. Maybe Calum’s not typically sociable with employees, especially not those who are serving him food or drink. But most employees don’t resemble Greek gods. Most employees don’t smile at him like Ashton does. Most employees don’t remember his name.

“Maybe you just think because I’m mean to you that I’m mean to everyone,” Calum says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Calum?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, coming forward to take the drink and the bagged cookie out of Rian’s hands. “Thank you.”

“Have a good one,” Rian bids him. “Enjoy the cookie.”

“I will,” Calum says, and then amends: “I will try, at least. I’ll, uh, let you know.”

“Oh, tell Ashton,” Rian says, “and he’ll get the message to me.” He winks, which just serves to confuse Calum, and then disappears back behind the counter. Calum walks back to Luke, feeling bewildered but also kind of excited. At least now he has a reason to come back, an excuse to strike up another conversation with Ashton. As long as they’re talking about work-related things, like the food the coffee shop serves, that’s okay, right? There’s a way to go too far with flirting with food-service workers, and Calum is conscious of it, but if he sticks very close to the category of what to order and whether or not he’d enjoyed it, that’s probably fine. If it’s not, Calum gets the feeling Ashton will be able to shut the conversation down. It’s not like Calum’s not amenable to a subject change.

“All of a sudden you’re chatty Calum,” Luke says. Calum snorts, handing off the drink to Luke and pushing open the door to the coffee shop. He wonders why there’s no bell. This kind of shop seems like it ought to have a bell.

“I’m pretty sure it’s chatty Cathy.”

“I was adapting it for my purposes.” Calum rolls his eyes. “Seriously, what was that? Was that guy flirting with you? Was he the one who suggested the cinnamon cookie thing?”

“He wasn’t flirting with me,” Calum says decisively. “I think he’s just super friendly.” Plus, if Rian is flirting, then Ashton is _definitely_ flirting, and Calum doesn’t want to jump to any biased conclusions. 

“He winked at you,” Luke points out. This is a fair observation.

“I think he was being ironic?” Calum says, although now he’s not sure. He resolves to pay more attention to the way Rian (and for that matter, Ashton) interacts with other customers on his next visit to the coffee shop.

“You could do worse than that guy,” Luke says thoughtfully. “He’s good-looking. Not really my type, but, you know.”

That’s because Luke’s type is Michael from his astronomy class, but Calum has taken a vow of silence on that front under threat of having his bed filled with honey and/or soy sauce, so he just raises his eyebrows to himself and says nothing.

  
  


**September 10th (Thursday)**

Calum begins his sleuthing on Thursday. He queues up behind two people and studies Ashton’s interactions with them. It strikes him that this might be creepy, but Calum enjoys straddling the line, rather than completely crossing it. 

Ashton is polite and friendly to the two people before Calum, but, Calum observes, he doesn’t call either of them by name, doesn’t say anything other than the standard what’ll-it-be script. So if nothing else, Ashton’s being _friendly_ to Calum. It remains to be seen whether that means he’s flirting, but, Calum figures, one thing at a time.

“Hey,” Ashton says when Calum reaches the front of the queue. “The usual?”

Calum grins. He likes that he has a “usual,” never mind that it’s Luke’s usual, that he’s never had a pumpkin spice latte in his life and really isn’t inclined to. “Yeah,” he says. “Oh, the cookie was _incredible,_ by the way.”

Ashton’s face brightens. “Really, you liked it?” To Rian, who’s behind the counter making a different drink: “Calum liked the cookie.”

“Did he?” Rian says over his shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”

“Five stars,” Calum confirms. “I’ll have another of those, actually.” His bank account is weeping into its hands, but anything to stand here a minute longer, anything to talk to Ashton for another moment.

“Now we’ve got you hooked,” Ashton jokes, keying the order into the register.

Calum bites his lip and smiles. “I don’t keep coming back for the cookies, if that’s what you mean.”

Ashton looks at him, then shakes his head slightly and finishes ringing Calum up. After Calum pays, Ashton gives him a broad smile. “Have a great day, Calum. I’m glad you keep coming back.”

A tornado of winged creatures starts whirling around in Calum’s stomach, and he manages to return the smile. “You too, Ashton,” he says. That’s the first time he’s ever said Ashton’s name aloud, he realizes, and he likes the way it sounds, each syllable its own story. Ashton’s smile only grows, and Calum decides to quit while he’s ahead. He heads over to wait for his drink and surveys the coffee shop.

The person who’d been behind Calum in the queue now saunters up to the till and loudly says, “Ashton!”

“Alex,” Ashton says, remnants of the smile he’d given Calum now melting into something more sarcastic. A friend, then. Or maybe a friend the way that Calum is a friend? “You know I’m going to charge you, right?”

“That’s fine,” the alleged Alex says dismissively. “Rian will steal my money back after closing.” So probably not just a customer-friend, then. Either that or he’s a _very_ close customer-friend.

“I will not!” Rian pipes up, still over his shoulder as he works on crafting what Calum assumes is his — Luke’s — drink. “Stop giving me a bad rep, you shithead!”

“Hey, _language,_ ” Ashton chides. “What can I get you?”

“Large iced americano and coffee cake,” Alex says. “Come on, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Wish I didn’t,” Ashton mutters. 

“That’s no way to treat a customer.”

“You’re the exception that proves the rule.”

“That’s no way to treat your best friend’s boyfriend,” Alex adds, crossing his arms. 

“I would argue that’s the _only_ way to treat my best friend’s boyfriend.”

They’re obviously friends from outside of the coffee shop, then. Calum gets a small sense of victory; clearly Ashton treats Calum uniquely to other customers. Maybe it’s just because Calum’s been here four times in two weeks, and Ashton is “sometimes” good with faces, and a naturally friendly guy (or so he seems).

But still.

Ashton rings Alex up. Alex pays without protest, then comes around the counter to wait for his drink. “Calum,” Rian says at the same time. Calum steps forward, and Rian hands the pumpkin spice latte off with the cookie.

“Thanks,” Calum says. Rian smiles at him.

“Glad you liked the cookie,” he says. “Have a great day, man.”

“You too.”

“Alex,” Rian adds, reaching behind him for the pastry Alex had ordered. “For you.”

Calum retreats slowly, watching. Alex comes forward and leans over the counter, and Calum blinks, but he’s sure he hasn’t imagined it; Alex has just kissed Rian. Rian is grinning even wider when he leans back. _Oh._

“Thanks, babe,” Alex says cheerfully. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Rian says. “Have a good class.”

“Always do,” Alex says, and Calum quickly turns and leaves before Alex can see that he’s been lingering. 

(“Rian’s _definitely_ not flirting with me,” Calum proclaims, entering his classroom and marching up to Luke.

Luke frowns. “Who?”

“The guy from the coffee shop,” Calum says impatiently. “His boyfriend came in today.” As if needing further evidence that he’d actually been to the shop, Calum thrusts the PSL towards Luke. “Got you this, also.”

“Stop getting me drinks!” Luke protests. “I’m not paying you back!”

“I know,” Calum says. “I’m just nice.”

Luke narrows his eyes, skeptical. “You’re not _this_ nice.”

Calum just smiles enigmatically and takes his seat beside Luke.)

**September 15th (Tuesday)**

It strikes Calum, as they’re standing in the queue, that he has no idea how old Ashton is.

Rian must at least be _around_ college age, because he’s with that Alex guy, and he’d bid Alex to enjoy his classes. And Ashton _looks_ like he’s Calum’s age, or somewhere around there, but Calum doesn’t trust himself to accurately guess. Should he ask? Probably not; that’s definitely crossing the line of appropriate customer questions. 

Should he stop trying to sneakily discern information about the barista who thinks he has some kind of pumpkin spice latte affinity? Also probably yes, but that’s a bit too much to ask.

He and Luke enter the coffee shop, and Luke turns to Calum with a hopeful expression. “Order for me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. He doesn’t even bother pretending like he’s annoyed about it. Luke kisses his cheek and saunters away towards the bathrooms, and Calum approaches the register.

“Hi,” Ashton says, looking happy to see Calum. “How are you?”

“Can’t really complain,” Calum says. “Well, I can. I could. My classes are kicking my arse, but you know how it is.”

“Mine too,” Ashton says sympathetically. He’s already picked up a cup, Calum notices with amusement, and is uncapping his sharpie to write on it. “They’re — oh, fuck. I mean — I didn’t say that. I didn’t actually ask you what you want.”

“That’s okay,” Calum says, laughing. “You guessed right.”

Ashton sighs with relief and begins to scrawl Calum’s name across the cup. “Anyway, my classes are also killing me. I’m in a literature class and I think the professor has never actually tried to read a book before and doesn’t realize how long it takes. Like, I’ve got other classes, _and_ I’m expected to read two hundred pages, twice a week.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. Not fun. But anyway,” Ashton says, handing Calum’s cup off to Rian, “anything else? Cinnamon sugar cookie?”

“I’m okay,” Calum says. His credit card is already giving him dark looks. “Just the drink. You go to school here?”

Ashton nods while Calum pays. “Yeah, this is my last year.”

“Wow,” Calum says. A senior, then. That’s fine. Calum’s a sophomore. That’s only two years difference. Definitely acceptable. “What are you studying?”

“Elementary education,” Ashton says. Calum’s face must betray something, because he laughs, self-aware. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work, but, you know. I love kids, and I love teaching.”

“But at what _cost,_ ” Calum says in horror, pushing out of his mind the image of Ashton crouched down, talking with a six-year-old, maybe teaching them to spell, or do basic maths, or — Calum’s got no idea what six-year-olds learn, but the point is Ashton with children is a lot to think about. Or not think about, as it were.

“Sky-high tuition that I’m working a part-time barista gig to pay off?” Ashton offers, dry. 

Calum acquiesces. “It’s impressive,” he offers. “I mean, that you’re doing El Ed _and_ working. And any kid would be lucky to have you as their teacher, I’m sure.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” Ashton says, ducking his head. “What about you? What year are you? What are you studying?”

“Second, and I’m not totally sure yet,” Calum says. “Probably psych, or…something like. I’m in all these psych classes but haven’t yet committed.”

“I get it,” Ashton says. “I mean, not really, because I was El Ed from my first day, but I get why you’d want to wait.”

“Yeah,” Calum says. There’s a lull, and Calum figures they’ve reached the end of the conversation, and anyway there are people behind Calum in the queue. “Well, good luck with the reading.”

“Thanks,” Ashton says. “Good luck with the psych…whatever it is that’s kicking your arse.” 

Calum steps off to the side with a smile.

Luke rejoins him soon, and when Rian calls out, “Calum,” Calum takes the drink.

“Have a good one,” he tells Rian. 

Rian salutes. “You too.”

He heads out of the shop with Luke and hands Luke his drink. “Didn’t get anything for yourself?” Luke asks.

Calum shrugs. “Not that hungry.”

“I figured you’d have taken any opportunity to keep chatting up that cashier,” Luke says airily. Calum nearly chokes.

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” Luke says, rolling his eyes. “You were totally flirting with him, I saw when I came out of the bathroom. It’s cute, Cal, why not?”

“I’m not _flirting,_ ” Calum protests. Luke gives him a look. “If you’re not flirting with Michael, I’m not flirting with Ashton.”

Luke shoves Calum with his shoulder, making Calum stumble. “I’m _not_ flirting with Michael,” he says, “and you know your barista’s name, Calum. There’s no reason you’d know that unless you were flirting.”

“I’m —”

“ _And_ you keep going and getting me PSLs on Thursdays even though I haven’t asked for them and, honestly, I don’t need them,” Luke continues, gaining steam. “You could just go to Starbucks, but it’s always this place. You totally fancy him.”

“Okay, enough, Sherlock.” Calum grimaces. “I don’t _fancy_ him, alright? I find him cute. And charming. That’s allowed.”

“I never said you couldn’t!” Luke says. “I think you _should._ I’ve been nothing but supportive even though you really haven’t earned my support.”

“I think I earn your support by putting up with you every single day.”

“I’m your favorite roommate you’ve ever had.”

“And _only_ roommate.”

“Still true,” Luke says, grinning in an annoyingly self-satisfied way. He takes a long drink from his cup. Calum rolls his eyes and shoulders Luke.

“You’re my favorite _and_ least favorite roommate,” he says begrudgingly. “That’s all I’ll say about it.”

“I can work with that,” Luke says happily, and then takes off on a monologue about the latest development in whatever trashy reality show he likes to watch with his somehow endless free time. Calum watches their footsteps, beating synchronized against the pavement, and decides he’s lucky. He really could do much, much worse for a roommate and best friend.

**September 17th (Thursday)**

Calum’s awoken by Luke’s alarm at nine-thirty, which blares “Feeling This” throughout the room. He groans and turns over, but the alarm continues, persisting for a whole minute and a half before Calum rolls over, grunts, slides out of bed, and tromps sluggishly over to Luke. “Luke, your alarm, bro.”

Luke is still sound asleep. Calum grabs his phone from off the side of his bed and turns off the alarm, and blissful silence fills the room. Luke is still unresponsive, so Calum gently pushes at his shoulder. “Lukey.”

This is very odd behavior from Luke, who tends to be a morning person. Thursdays, only Luke needs to be up this early, and he usually turns off his alarm before it wakes Calum, so already this morning is out of the ordinary. Calum grows concerned. “Luke, buddy. Your alarm went off. Time to wake up.”

Finally Luke stirs. He turns over and opens his eyes to Calum, squinting against the light from the window. It’s clear something is wrong. “Hm?”

Calum frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”

Luke clears his throat, then coughs. Calum takes a step back as Luke jolts upright, violently coughing into his arm. When the fit subsides, Luke croaks, “Ow.”

Calum tentatively approaches as Luke draws his knees up to his chest, pulling the covers up to his neck. “You might have a cold,” he suggests, and Luke groans loudly and falls on his back in despair.

“ _Calum_ , don’t _say_ that, I can’t have a cold.”

“Well, I’m just saying if you’re coughing and you’re cold —”

“I’m not cold.” The next moment, Luke wraps the duvet tighter around his shoulders and buries half of his face into the pillow. “Okay,” he mutters, “I’m a little cold.”

Calum makes a sympathetic face. “You should email your professors and then go back to sleep,” he says. Luke makes a noise of dissent. “I can email them, if you want.”

“I can do it,” Luke mumbles.

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have their emails. It’s fine. I’ll do it. I’ll…I’ll wake up in an hour and then I’ll do it. My class doesn’t start for an hour anyway.”

Calum presses his lips together. “Do you need me to get you anything?” He’d love to go back to sleep, but he feels terribly for Luke. “Tissues, anything?”

Luke shakes his head listlessly. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to have a cold.”

“Go back to sleep,” Calum offers, and Luke sighs as if conceding to this is a great tragedy. “I can tell Dr. Smith you’re ill.”

“Thanks,” Luke says under his breath. It sounds like he’s already drifting back to sleep. “Wake me in an hour?”

Calum smiles. Despite himself, he reaches out and tugs a hand through Luke’s hair. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

Luke just hums drowsily; he’s already asleep. Calum turns around and scours the room for tissues. There’s an unopened box on Luke’s desk, so Calum opens it and tucks it on Luke’s bed between him and the wall. Hopefully Luke won’t, like, roll over and stab himself on the corner.

Already awake, Calum racks his brain for anything he can do to help, and a stupid idea lodges itself in his mind. He tries to dismiss it but it’s insistent, and before Calum can convince himself not to, he’s already grabbing his keys, phone, and wallet, and slipping out the door with a quiet _click._

* * *

The coffee shop is surprisingly quiet, although maybe that’s because it’s not approaching midday, when Calum usually comes in. Halfway here Calum had realized that coming earlier might mean Ashton isn’t working, but he couldn’t very well turn back because of that when the whole impetus of the trip had been to get a pumpkin spice latte for Luke.

It’s probably not the _best_ thing to drink with a cold, but it’s warm, and it will hopefully make Luke smile.

As Calum pulls open the door, he spots Ashton as usual, and Rian as well. This time, though, it’s Rian behind the register, and Ashton behind the counter, handing off a coffee to a young woman with a smile. As the woman turns away, Ashton catches Calum’s eye, and his friendly smile grows. “Calum! I didn’t expect you this early.”

Calum’s heart does somersaults. Ashton had been _expecting_ him, had been _thinking_ of him; Ashton keeps track of what time Calum comes in and on what days. Calum swallows down a love confession. “Yeah, me neither. Uh, Luke’s sick, so I thought I would come get him a coffee.” Unsure for a moment, he hesitates, then barrels on: “And pay you a visit, I guess.”

It’s the right move; Ashton’s grin stretches wider. “Well, I’m glad you have,” he says. “Is Luke the bloke who’s usually with you? Curly brown hair?”

 _He notices who Calum comes in with._ Calum hides a smile and nods. “We live together,” he explains.

“Hold on a sec,” Ashton says, and then turns to Rian, who’s on his phone because there’s no one queued up. “Ri, swap me. I need to take Calum’s order.”

Rian looks up and spots Calum beyond Ashton. He waves and Calum waves back. “Dude,” Rian says to Ashton. “I can take his order, you know.”

The two of them have a silent conversation that Calum’s not privy to, and then Rian sighs. “You owe me,” he says. 

Ashton claps him on the back, and they switch places. Calum obligingly comes up to the register, and up close he can see that Ashton looks tired. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Ashton replies. Despite bags under his eyes and an obvious slump to his shoulders, his smile’s as sincere as ever. “So what can I get you? Or what can I get Luke?”

“Uh, the usual,” Calum says. Suddenly he feels embarrassed. “It’s, uh, Luke’s actually the PSL addict.”

Ashton gives him an indecipherable look as he picks up the cup, and his hand moves more slowly to write Calum’s name on the cup. “You don’t even drink these?”

“I get them for Luke,” Calum explains, because that sounds nice, and far better than _I need an excuse to keep coming back to see you_. “Bribing him into loving me.”

Ashton gives a quiet laugh, but there’s a strange note to it. “Ah,” he says, finishing Calum’s name. “That’s very nice of you. Luke is very lucky.”

“He is,” Calum agrees. At least someone’s recognizing it. “I mean,” he adds nervously, “I could always go to Starbucks, but, you know. The service here is too good to pass up.”

There’s a beat too long before Ashton answers. “Well, we try.” He flashes a dazzling smile, but Calum feels like something’s off. Suddenly it feels awkward, and that makes Calum realize that it hasn’t felt awkward for a couple weeks now.

“You succeed,” he says. When the machine prompts him he puts his card in, and Ashton doesn’t say anything more until Calum takes it out.

“Have a great day, Calum,” he says, with a smile that almost, almost reaches his eyes. But Calum’s seen when Ashton’s smile takes up his whole face, and this time it doesn’t. He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but then closes it decisively. 

“You too, Ashton,” Calum says. “See you later.” It’s a question, even though it’s really not; he _will_ see Ashton later, if he comes back on Tuesday, which, now that Luke knows about his stupid crush, there’s no doubt they will. He’s not really asking if he’ll see Ashton later.

“See you,” Ashton replies, which somehow both does and doesn’t answer Calum’s question.

Calum goes and waits for the drink. Rian doesn’t bother calling his name, just hands it to Calum, accompanied by the usual shining smile.

“Have a good one,” he says.

Calum smiles back. It’s hard not to return Rian’s smile. “You too, bro.”

And then he’s out of the shop, cupping both hands around the drink to keep them warm until he’s back at his and Luke’s dorm. The lights are still off, and Luke is still asleep, but when the door clicks he stirs and wakes, eyes fluttering open. Calum winces.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I, uh…got you a drink.”

Luke blinks twice at him across the dim room. “Wha?”

“PSL,” Calum says, extending the drink as he crosses to Luke. “Felt like you could use it. Emotionally.”

Luke wearily shuffles upright and his lips curve upward. “You’re such a self-serving bastard,” he says, reaching for the cup. “You just wanted to see Ashton.”

Calum blushes. “Two birds, one stone,” he says. “I could have just waited until class and not brought something back for you.”

“Thank you,” Luke says obligingly. He takes a long drink from the cup and exhales contentedly. “Mm, thank you, Cal. You’re the best.”

Calum smiles. The weirdness with Ashton was probably nothing, he decides, and there’s no sense dwelling on it. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Love you,” he tells Luke, and reaches out to pat Luke’s cheek.

**September 22nd (Tuesday)**

By the time Tuesday rolls around, Calum’s all but forgotten about the momentary friction. Which is for the best, because Luke is unshakeable; they _are_ going back, and Luke _is_ going to speak to Ashton this time, “to see if he’s good enough for you.”

It’s familiarly calm when they walk in; there’s only one person queued up, so Calum and Luke take their place behind her, and when she moves out of the way they step forth as one, Luke’s arm slung lazily over Calum’s. 

“Hey,” Ashton greets him. His smile is bright in his eyes, which momentarily slide over to Luke before returning to Calum. “How are you? What can I get for you?”

“Good,” Calum says. “I’ll have, uh, the usual, I guess.”

Obligingly, Ashton turns to Luke. “Should I presume the usual means your order?”

“Pumpkin spice latte?” Luke asks, and Ashton nods, chuckling, and starts writing Calum’s name on the cup. Halfway through he pauses. “Oh — it’s for you. I should put your name. Um, Luke?”

“Yeah, this is Luke,” Calum says, belatedly realizing that they’ve never formally been introduced. It’s strange, because he doesn’t consider Ashton the kind of person to whom he needs to introduce anyone — like, they’re basically friends, but they’ve also never spoken outside of this coffee shop. Calum’s never seen the lower half of Ashton’s body. For all he knows, there isn’t one. Maybe Ashton is a centaur. 

He’d really like to speak to Ashton outside of the coffee shop. He should ask Ashton about that, see if he would be interested in being real, actual friends, outside of this strange customer-barista relationship that relies entirely on Calum spending money.

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says cordially to Luke, “though I guess you can see that from my nametag.”

“Nice to meet you,” Luke says. “Thank you for draining Calum’s bank account and giving me endless pumpkin spice lattes.”

“I think you should probably thank Calum for that,” Ashton says lightly. He and Calum make eye contact. Calum starts a laugh, but Ashton looks away before he can finish it, back down to the cup where he scratches out Calum’s name and writes Luke’s. Calum finds himself frowning and quickly fixes his face into something more friendly before Ashton looks at him again.

“Nah,” Luke says. He turns and presses an aggressively sloppy kiss to Calum’s cheek. Calum pulls away, grimacing and shoving Luke, but he can’t stop himself giggling, just like every time Luke does something totally ridiculous and uncalled for. “Calum owes me. For being his absolute favorite ever.”

“You aren’t my _favorite ever,_ ” Calum protests. Luke raises an eyebrow. “You’re, like…top fifty. Maybe. Like, the lower end of the top fifty, I would say.”

“Who the fuck is above me?” 

“Ashton, for one,” Calum says. Ashton glances at him over the register and gives him an indulgent smile. Luke just scoffs.

“You’ve known him, like, three weeks.”

“Well, he’s nicer to me than you are. Not to mention better-looking.”

“I don’t want to get between you two,” Ashton teases, over an undercurrent of something more serious. “It’s 5.95.”

Calum is reaching for his wallet, more out of habit than anything else, when Luke pulls out his own credit card and pays. Calum starts. He’d forgotten that the drink is actually for Luke, and still feels like he ought to be paying; he’s getting more out of this coffee shop visit than Luke, ultimately, isn’t he? He gets to enjoy conversation with Ashton for a few minutes, and that’s worth far more than 5.95.

“Thanks, Ash,” Calum says brightly as Luke slinks off to go wait for the drink. Ashton watches him go and then turns back to Calum.

“Anytime,” he says. Just like last time, he opens his mouth and closes it. Calum wants to linger, convinced that a second more and Ashton will actually _say_ what he’s holding back, but Ashton doesn’t, so Calum just nods awkwardly and goes to join Luke.

“You didn’t get anything,” Luke says. “I figured your usual included the cookie.”

“I don’t always get it,” Calum says.

“Aren’t you hungry, though?”

Calum shrugs. He is, a bit, but he’d also kind of expected the cookie to be included in the “usual,” and had been too caught up in the Ashton-meeting-Luke excitement to remember to order anything for himself, and now it’s too late. “I’ll eat after class.”

Luke frowns, but it’s not like he can do much about it, so he drops it. They stand and wait, both scrolling through their phones, until Rian calls out, “Luke.” Luke looks up in surprise.

“I was expecting your name,” he says to Calum, grinning, and goes to take the drink. Calum trails after, and Rian greets him with a nod and hands him a paper bag.

“On the house,” he says. “Courtesy of I’m sure you can guess.” He jerks his head backwards, where Ashton is standing at the register, staring so determinedly at his phone that there’s no way he’s actually seeing anything there. Calum blushes. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Tell him thanks.”

Rian gives him a thumbs up. “Have a great day,” he says to both of them, and then turns toward Ashton as Luke and Calum head for the doors.

Calum clutches the pastry bag until they’re already out of the shop, while Luke laughs incredulously.

“Eat it, Calum.”

“He gave me _free food,_ ” Calum says in disbelief.

“Yeah, he’s flirting with you. Eat it, you moron, it’s probably warm.”

Calum takes the cookie out of the bag and takes a bite, wondering if it’s possible that Ashton’s flirting, and if he is, why he’d seemed so weird today. Nervous, maybe? Or maybe Luke’s reading too into it — maybe they both are. Maybe Ashton had just meant to do something nice for Calum. He’s a nice guy. That’s the sort of thing he’d do, probably.

“He’s not flirting with me,” he protests half-heartedly, but it’s mostly just to hear Luke say again that he is, and Luke doesn’t disappoint.

“Of course he’s flirting with you, you idiot. You’re you. Total catch.” Luke smiles and pinches Calum’s cheek. Calum ducks away.

“Stop being weird,” he says. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Luke just sips his drink. “Oh, by the way,” he says. There’s a beat. Calum waits. “I have study plans tomorrow night, so we can’t get dinner.” 

“That’s fine,” Calum says. He’s happy to just stay in and watch something or get some work done, but the way Luke had hesitated makes him think there’s something else he should know, something Luke won’t say without prompting but that he’s obviously dying to share. “Plans with who?”

Luke trains his eyes on the gravel. “Michael,” he mumbles. Calum’s smirks triumphantly.

“Fuck yeah,” he cheers. “Get it, Luke.”

“It’s just studying. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Will you at least admit you like him? _Please?_ ”

“No.”

“Luke!”

“I don’t —”

“I will knock your drink out of your hand,” Calum threatens. Luke immediately draws it protectively to his chest. He sighs deeply.

“It’s not — it’s complicated,” he whines. “I don’t like him. He’s, like…Michael. He’s older than me and _all_ his jeans are ripped and, like.”

“And…he’s agreed to study plans with you.” Calum raises an eyebrow. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Luke.” Echoing Luke’s earlier comment, he points out, “You’re you. Total catch.”

“Shut up,” Luke says. “He’s got red hair.”

“You’ve got a lip ring.”

“He’s got an eyebrow piercing, though!”

“So then he’s obviously into people with piercings,” Calum says encouragingly. Luke groans and takes another drink from his cup. Calum studies _Luke_ scribbled in Ashton’s familiar penmanship and decides he much prefers when it’s his own name printed in black.

“Stop it,” Luke declares. “I’m not talking about it anymore. We’re going to talk about astronomy, and he’s going to explain declination and right ascension because I have no fucking clue what they are and they seem to be important to the course, and that’s all.”

It sounds like Luke’s convincing himself more than Calum, and Calum’s not convinced. But whatever. If Luke wants to deceive himself, that is his prerogative.

**September 24th (Thursday)**

Per usual, Luke’s gone when Calum wakes up on Thursday, so Calum takes himself to the coffee shop. The whole way there is spent working up the nerve to ask Ashton for his number. Or to get coffee. Or not coffee. Is it awkward to ask someone to coffee when they’re literally a barista? Ashton being a barista means he probably likes coffee, right? Actually, not really. There’s an equally good chance that working as a barista has ruined Ashton’s taste for coffee. So Calum should probably ask him to, like, lunch. Or brunch. Or something. Except is it too forward to ask that kind of thing when Ashton’s working? It’s not like Calum can really ask him any other time, but still — he’s technically a customer. Does that make it weird? Or has Ashton been waiting for him to ask, like, as friends, because friends should have each other's phone numbers, at least, and they haven’t, and once they pass that point then it won’t feel so weird, Calum being the customer and Ashton the barista. And anyway —

So on until he reaches the coffee shop.

When he crosses the threshold, all his fears are momentarily assuaged by the soothing scent of cinnamon and chocolate lingering in the warm air. He walks up to the register, still unsure of what exactly he plans to say and figuring he can always wing it. He’s basically been winging it since day one, so it’s not like the expectations are high.

As soon as Ashton sees him, though, his eyes widen. “Do you have a minute after you order?” he says, bypassing pleasantries entirely. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Uh, kind of privately. I can take a break.”

Calum blinks. “What — yeah, sure.” Something Ashton needs to talk to him about? _Privately?_ What the fuck, Calum wonders nervously, could that possibly be?

Ashton bites his lip. “You can get a table, I guess? It’s not top-secret — sorry, I know I’m being weird. I just need to tell Rian I’m taking a quick break and I can join you.”

“Sure,” Calum says. “Very excited to find out you actually have legs.” He grins, and Ashton huffs a laugh, but it’s clear his heart’s not in it, and he’s already turning away to clear this obviously-impromptu break with Rian. 

All sorts of concerns crowd Calum’s mind as he heads for the table in the corner of the shop. It’s funny; for all the times he’s been in here, he’s never once sat down. Now he does, setting his rucksack on the floor and drumming his fingers anxiously on the tabletop until Ashton sits down across from him.

Calum’s first thought, nonsensically, is that Ashton’s very much not a centaur. He chalks that up to stress, because this whole situation is making him very worried. Most of Ashton’s legs are obscured by his apron anyway, but he’s clearly wearing black jeans underneath it, disappearing into a pair of black trainers. Peeking out from the apron, Calum can just barely see the pink-and-green edges of the blink-182 logo.

So at least he’s a man with taste.

“So, um,” Ashton says, twisting his fingers, “I — I saw something last night that — um, I figured I should probably tell you. Um.” He takes a deep breath, and Calum’s about to reach across the table and slap him, just to get it out of him, when Ashton says, all in a rush: “I saw your boyfriend kissing some other guy.”

Calum stares. That’s not what he’d been expecting. Calum’s not sure what he’d expected, but it most definitely hadn’t been that. “What?”

“Last night,” Ashton says, chewing his lip. “I just thought I should tell you because if it was me I’d want to know, and I know we’re not, like, _super_ close but you deserve to know if your boyfriend’s not being faithful and anyway I feel like we’re kind of friends, not that I wouldn’t tell you if we weren’t, but I —”

“Ashton,” Calum interrupts, feeling bewildered. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

This time it’s Ashton’s turn to stare. “You…you don’t?”

“Who the fuck would be my boyfriend?”

More staring. “I thought…Luke,” Ashton says slowly. “Didn’t you say he’s your boyfriend?”

A laugh starts to build in Calum’s chest, bubbling up his throat. “I definitely didn’t, because he’s not,” he says, trying to bite back a grin. “He’s my roommate and my best friend. Where the fuck did you get boyfriend from?”

“He acts like a boyfriend,” Ashton argues. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Well. I feel sufficiently embarrassed, so please pretend like I didn’t say anything, and —”

“No, wait, hold on a second,” Calum says, because the rest of the story is registering now. “Who was Luke kissing?” He’s got an inkling, but if Luke _actually_ kissed him and then had the _nerve_ not to tell Calum…

Ashton wrinkles his nose as if trying to remember. “Bright red hair,” he says. “That’s all I saw. I didn’t know him.”

“That piece of shit,” Calum swears. “That absolute fuckhead, I can’t _believe_ he kissed Michael and then didn’t _tell me._ ”

Ashton chuckles self-consciously. “Sorry for worrying you,” he says. “I probably made that seem a lot worse than — well, obviously than it ended up being, it’s just, I don’t know. I’ve been cheated on, so…it’s always better to know.” He winces. “That was too much information.”

“No, no, it wasn’t,” Calum says quickly, although he feels a pang of outrage at whatever total dick had cheated on Ashton. “I mean — we’re friends, right? I — I feel like we are.” Or something. 

Ashton blushes. “I’ve been meaning to ask for your number for like three weeks,” he says sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if that was weird since you’re, like, a paying customer.”

“Well for fuck’s sake, Ashton, I wish you’d asked,” Calum says, like he’s not guilty of exactly the same thing. The silly smile starts to creep its way back onto Ashton’s face, and Calum, feeling emboldened, adds, “Is that why you started being weird when I mentioned Luke?”

“I wasn’t weird.”

“You were a bit weird.”

Calum’s starting to grow concerned for the intensity with which Ashton chews his bottom lip. “Well, I didn’t realize — I mean I _thought_ you were flirting with me, but then it turned out you had a boyfriend, or…so, um, yeah.”

“I was,” Calum says, and the smile on Ashton’s face grows. “I was absolutely flirting with you. I’m glad that translated.”

“Really, you were?” Ashton looks surprised. “Oh. I thought that was wishful thinking.”

 _Wishful thinking._ Meaning — meaning what, exactly? “Were you flirting with me?”

“Until I thought you had a boyfriend, I was,” Ashton says. He ducks his head. “I mean, I tried not to after. You’re just very charming, you know.”

“And I was flirting with you while you thought I was with Luke, so I can’t blame you,” Calum says graciously. “Well, um, do you — you know, I spent the whole walk here trying to figure out how to ask you to get lunch or something, but I definitely didn’t think it would go like this.”

Ashton laughs, bright and cheerful. “You should probably ask soon,” he says. “Before Rian comes over here and kicks my arse for taking a break this long when I absolutely am not supposed to.”

They both sneak furtive glances at Rian, who’s leaning against the register where there are thankfully no customers; he looks up as they do, almost like he’d been expecting them to check on him, and cocks his head in a silent question. Ashton gives him two thumbs up. Rian rolls his eyes as somebody walks up to the till.

“Would you like to get lunch?” Calum asks, and the grin he’d once questioned the sincerity of grows broad and genuine over Ashton’s mouth, lighting up his face, lighting up the whole room. His eyes, Calum notices, are a clear hazel, absolutely gorgeous.

“Is it a date?” Ashton replies. Calum feels his face grow warm, but he stands his ground.

“Of course it’s a date,” he says. “Have you seen yourself?”

That startles a laugh out of Ashton. “Then yes,” he agrees. “I’d love to get lunch.”

Calum finds himself mirroring Ashton’s grin, and for a moment he sees a hundred days just like this one, stealing breaks off Ashton’s shifts to grab a table and catch up, trading kisses for coffee across the counter just like Alex and Rian had done, talking in tandem about Elementary Education, which Calum knows nothing about, and maybe-psychology, which Calum knows very little about, or whatever major Calum lands on; holding hands and taking walks and study dates and movie nights and Ashton, always around, brightening the gloomy winter days with his incandescent smile.

But one thing at a time.

“Lunch sounds incredible,” Calum says.

**October 31st, Halloween (Saturday)**

The coffee shop is decked out. In Calum’s opinion, it looks ridiculous.

Ashton is definitely responsible for much of it, and, Calum suspects, Rian’s boyfriend Alex for equally as much. He’d heard the two of them plotting with heads bowed together earlier in the week, and sure enough, there are cotton spiderwebs taped up in every single visible corner with black plastic spiders suspended within when Calum comes in on Saturday. Hanging from the ceiling are lollipop ghosts — lollipops wrapped in tissue with faces drawn in sharpie — and miniature pumpkins are balanced ( _artfully_ , Ashton would call it) on most available surfaces in varying shades of white and orange. In describing the plans, Ashton had vaguely called it “teetering between too-much and just-enough,” and Calum had been prepared to concede that this is just-enough, but hanging on the door is a sign reading _WHERE DOES A VAMPIRE DRINK HIS LATTES? IN HIS COFFEE-IN!_ And that’s enough to push Calum over the edge.

Luke waves at Calum as Calum’s scanning the place, and Calum crosses the floor to the table he and Michael — Calum recognizes him from Instagram pictures — are occupying. They’re holding hands on the table. It’s almost cute. (Okay, it’s cute.)

“Hey,” Luke says brightly. “Mikey, this is my roommate Calum. Calum, Michael.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Calum says, pulling out the chair across from them and taking a seat.

“Same,” Michael says. Calum gives him an appraising look. He can see why Luke had been intimidated. On first glance, the fiery red hair, pierced eyebrow, and tattooed arms give the impression that this is not someone to fuck with. Even Calum, who’s seen many (many, many) photos of Michael, has to take a second. “I know this is supposed to be your line, but Luke never shuts the fuck up about you.”

Luke swats at Michael. “You’re not supposed to _tell_ him,” he says.

“That’s adorable,” Calum says, turning an innocent expression towards Luke. “You talk about me, Lukey? What do you say?”

“Just about how much of a pain in the arse you are,” Luke says flatly. They all laugh, and Luke’s eyes roam the shop. “Is Ashton coming?”

“Should be,” Calum says, reaching for his phone. “I told him half five.”

“Oh, he’s there,” Luke says, and a smirk splits his mouth. Calum counts to three before looking, because Ashton’s been extremely cagey about his plans for his Halloween costume and had consistently replied only with the winking emoji when Calum had asked, so he’s got no idea what to expect. By the time he finishes his countdown, Ashton’s hand has landed on his shoulder. 

Calum turns and has to do an aggressive double-take. “Hi,” Ashton says, smiling wide behind geeky black thick-framed glasses. Calum’s never seen Ashton with glasses, and that alone is a lot to process, but as he takes in Ashton’s costume he’s not sure whether to laugh, cry, or drag Ashton outside to make out with him against a wall.

“Hi,” he says instead, swallowing and giving Ashton a smile. “Nice costume.”

Ashton’s wearing a blue Superman shirt under a white dress shirt and black braces, all splattered with fake blood and tucked into black slacks. The tie hanging loose around his neck is in the same state. There’s more fake blood smeared around his mouth, and Ashton looks positively delighted to look so macabre.

“What exactly _is_ your costume?” Calum asks.

Ashton’s grin grows. “Vampire Superman,” he says, as if that explains everything.

“Pretty shit vampire if you’ve got blood everywhere,” Michael observes, laughing. Ashton looks at him.

“Yeah, well, I never said _good_ vampire, did I?” With that, he pulls out the remaining empty chair on Calum’s left and sits. “I’m Ashton, by the way. Calum’s boyfriend.”

“Michael,” Michael says, inclining his head. “Nice to meet you.”

“I have a question,” Luke says. “How did he become a vampire?”

“He got bitten by another vampire, obviously,” Ashton says with a straight face. Calum snorts a laugh and pats Ashton’s leg.

“He didn’t see that coming?”

“He secretly wanted to be a vampire,” Ashton says, throwing Calum a side-eye that’s just this side of too fond to be exasperated. “No more questions out of either of you. You’re not even _in_ costume.”

“Am too!” Calum protests. “I’m Luke.” He’s wearing Luke’s red plaid shirt, anyway, as well as Luke’s hi-top black Converse and his maroon snapback backwards on his head.

“And I’m Calum,” Luke says, grinning. He’s got Calum’s green hoodie on, concealing the blue Maine t-shirt, also Calum’s, and Calum’s red Nikes. Tugged down over his ears is one of Calum’s beanies, despite Calum’s protests that _you don’t need a beanie_ and _a hoodie, Luke_.

“Spitting image,” Michael says dryly. “Better watch out, Calum, or I might try to kiss you.”

Calum laughs. “My vampire superhero boyfriend will kick your arse if you do.”

“Oh yes,” Ashton says, turning seriously to Luke. “I’ll protect you, Calum.”

This time Luke and Michael laugh, and Calum hides his own laugh by elbowing Ashton.

“Are you dressed up?” Ashton asks Michael.

Michael makes a face. “I’m dressed as a third-year university student who’s too fucking busy to come up with a costume.”

Ashton chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“The shop looks spooky,” Calum comments, gesturing around them. 

Ashton nods enthusiastically. “Alex helped me.” _Knew it,_ Calum thinks. “Rian also came, but I think mostly just to make sure we didn’t put fake blood on the coffee machine or something.”

“Did you?”

“No!” Ashton says defensively. There’s a pause. “Only on his apron a little bit.”

Michael laughs. “Sounds fun to work here.”

“Yeah, he put some on mine too, but I was planning to do that anyway, so his revenge plan failed.”

“I’m surprised you had any left for your costume,” Calum says.

Ashton inclines his head. “What can I say, I’m all stocked up on fake blood.”

“That’s absolutely terrifying,” Calum says. “You’re a menace. A threat.”

“Gotta collect something,” Ashton says, shrugging.

“You collect _fake blood?_ ”

“If you need a compelling excuse to get out of class, that’s a pretty good thing to have,” Michael points out. 

“I don’t collect fake blood,” Ashton adds. Facing Calum, he waggles his eyebrows. “It’s real.”

“Oh my God,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. “Are we going to actually get anything to eat? Drink? Are we ever going to get to the movie?”

“I would once again like to submit _Nightmare Before Christmas_ for consideration,” Luke jumps in, and Michael and Calum both look at him.

“You’ve _never_ watched a horror movie on Halloween,” Calum says. “You need your horror-movie-on-Halloween virginity taken.”

“That’s awful,” Luke says, grimacing. “Now I _especially_ don’t want to.”

“Luke,” Michael wheedles, squeezing his hand. “ _Scream_ isn’t even that scary. Relatively speaking. And plus we’ll all be there. _And_ I’ve seen it before so I can tell you when to cover your eyes and all.”

Calum knows they’ve got him. Luke can resist Calum no problem, but he’s weak for Michael.

“Fine,” Luke huffs. “But I’m not happy about it.”

 _Liar,_ Calum thinks to himself. Luke’s going to absolutely love hiding his face in Michael’s shoulder every ten seconds. Calum wonders if it’d be worth it to pretend he gets scared at horror films just so he can do the same to Ashton.

“Right,” Ashton says, pushing himself to his feet and offering Calum a hand. “Shall we get some coffee and snacks to go?”

“Only if you’re paying,” Calum says, accepting the hand and standing also. He presses a kiss to Ashton’s cheek and pulls away, blushing. “Employee discount _and_ boyfriend privilege.”

“Lucky me,” Ashton says, and though he says it like it’s sarcastic, his smile, as usual, betrays him. Even smudged with fake blood, it’s the most radiant thing in the room. Calum hopes, for his own sake, that fake blood isn’t toxic. He’s looking forward to kissing it off Ashton’s mouth.

* * *

Luke does not do well with horror movies.

They tell him time and again that it’s really not that scary, but that doesn’t stop Luke from whimpering in fear straight from the opening scene and burying his face in Michael’s neck the moment the music grows suspenseful.

Calum twists his head around to look at Ashton. He’s leaning into Ashton’s side, and Ashton has his right arm snug around Calum’s shoulders. There’s a blanket draped over both of their legs, and their conjoined hands rest above it. Calum can’t think of any way he could possibly be more content.

“Wuss,” he tells Ashton, jerking his head at Luke.

“I don’t see how this scares people,” Ashton says. That’s a bit of a stretch, but Calum graciously hears him out. “It’s so unrealistic.”

“Says the vampire Superman.”

Ashton scoffs, but it’s playful. “It’s a _costume._ ”

“Yeah, it’s a _movie._ Immerse yourself.”

“Hard to immerse myself when you’re _talking_ over all the _plot_.”

Calum raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, is my commentary ruining your suspension of disbelief?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“What are you, fifteen?” Ashton says, looking down at Calum, but he’s already leaning in to capture Calum in a kiss. Calum closes his eyes and tunes out the movie and the soft reassurances from the other end of the couch, where Michael is no doubt promising Luke that there’s no murderer in the house and whispering various sweet nothings. The fake blood tastes kind of bad, but kissing Ashton makes up for it. Kissing Ashton, Calum imagines, would probably make up for most shortcomings.

“You’re difficult to watch films with,” Ashton breathes as they part.

“Why, because I talk?”

Ashton chuckles. “No, because you’re cute, and it’s distracting.”

Calum feels himself blush and is suddenly grateful for the dark room. “Oh.”

True to its title, someone screams in the movie, and Luke makes a very distressed noise. He’s not even watching, and hasn’t been for at least twenty minutes, so Calum doesn’t know why he’s so afraid, but at the moment he can’t bring himself to care.

“Lucky for you,” Ashton says quietly, “I’ve seen this one already.”

Calum smiles as Ashton kisses him again. This is what they mean, he realizes, when they say _happy Halloween_. Kissing his gorgeous boyfriend while his best friend does the same, watching a horror movie that nobody’s paying attention to, and in general ignoring responsibilities for a night.

“Happy Halloween,” he murmurs against Ashton’s mouth, and feels Ashton smile and tug Calum closer.

“Happy Halloween,” Ashton hums. “First of many, I hope.”

Calum hopes so too.

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween friends i hope you are precisely as spooked as you want to be and eat exactly the amount of candy you're craving. come say hey on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) if you feel like it. love you all lots!


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